Lyrics

Made my way into Chicago, IL
Coming back from some tour in Hell
My God it feels so good to be home again

Times are tough babe and that’s a fact
Nothing I own but this shirt on my back
The plane ride home left me little
money to spend

But I got me a bottle
and a place where I can stay
Just a simple place to hang my head and tomorrow I’ll be on my way

But a man woke me in my sleep
The lines on his face were dark and deep
He’d come to take what little I had left

I said, “please sir won’t you pay some mind
There’s nothing here, nothing for you to find”
But he couldn’t care less about
what I had to say

So I fought for my life
with flailing arms and kicking feet
I killed a man with my bare hands that night and I left him dead in the street

Now I’m wanted in Chicago
Nowhere to run and nowhere to go
I think I’ll leave here tomorrow
And find a safer place somewhere down the road

Running scared and so I hitched a ride
Headed south down the I55
And I made my way down into New Orleans

I think I might just lay low for a while
Try to avoid my name on trial
Cause it feels so good just to
live in one place again

So I got me a job and a roof over my head
Even found me a nice young lady to share the covers of my bed

I’m still wanted in Chicago
Calling out my name on the radio.
I saw my momma on a TV Show
And now I know I can never go back home

It was late one night and my throat was dry
I headed out under those southern skies
And found a place where a man could get a drink

I met a man who was just like me
He’d spent a spell on his hands and knees
Fighting just to get back up again

So I told him my story about
about the life that I had led
I finished my drink, said my goodbyes,
and I stumbled back home to bed

I awoke in the middle of the night
The man I had met was sitting right by my side
Tears fell like rain from his eyes

He said, “you don’t know me do you boy?
I had a brother who lived in Illinois.
He was killed last year by a man they never found”.

And before I could even speak
He shoved a knife into my chest
Well it’s true that what goes around – comes around I guess

Now I’m still wanted in Chicago
They’ll never find me this I know
Here I lay six feet down below
Never forget you reap just what you sew